Reverse Psychology
by Sinmora
Summary: When Emma gets jealous over The Queen's liberal liaisons with her guards, Regina sets out to make it up to her in a way that makes most sense to the stunted royal. Set in the universe of The Color Red, but is basically unapologetic smut with about as much plot as a scratch and sniff has scent. Written for a one-shot prompt given by smeaglebeagle. Enjoy, Friends!


Enjoy, friend, I hope this is everything you wished for.

Song: I Get Off by Halestorm

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><p>It seemed she forever screwed up in the eyes of Emma Swan. She felt too little, too much, inappropriately. Her pet had barely looked at her in a week, much less spoken. She'd apologized, given presents, doted and pleaded for forgiveness. So, when Robin Hood walked in the door to her private chambers within Throne Hall, sauntering and swaggering in a way that made Regina ache to have as much angry sex with the man she loathed as his beautifully designed body could handle, Regina took the opportunity to try a different approach.<p>

"Hello, Robin," she purred, standing from her plushy black leather chair. He seemed as confused as Emma when The Queen moved around the desk, her steps calculated and predatory. He shifted from foot to foot, and Regina barely caught the slightest movement from the long conference table where her obstinate pet sat sulking at the opposite end as her desk. Emma watched, and the sudden jolt between her legs told Regina that she liked it far too much.

"I suppose you've come to claim your voice," she teased the man who was only capable of clucking like a chicken. He stiffened, fighting the urge to step away from the positively decadent delight of The Queen slipping between him and the desk. She leaned her thighs against the sturdy wood and hooked the heel of one stiletto on a decorative strip halfway up from the bottom of the desk.

The position completely obstructed Emma's view of her, but the blonde shifted and shuffle quietly, no doubt searching for a better angle without being obvious. Regina smirked lasciviously when Robin swallowed roughly and nodded, completely oblivious to the game she played with Emma's head. Her hooded eyes watched the lump in his throat bob and wiggle with anxiety, a slight scruff undulating over his skin. She loved a slightly scratchy beard of a man between her legs, stimulating and scratching in all the right ways if the man knew how to use all of his assets.

"Have you learned a lesson where you have not learned proper hygiene?" She insulted the man, soothing the sting of it with a cool fingertip along his jaw. A head of golden hair appeared in her peripheral vision, and Regina smirked again, wrapping her fingers around his neck slowly. He stiffened, but her grip remained loose and non-threatening.

Robin swallowed again, and Regina sighed against the feel of his throat moving against her palm. No matter how much he claimed to hate her, sexual tension had always crackled when they interacted. She cared little about the effect this little display had on him, though, not when Emma Swan waited for her a few feet away.

"Are you aware that hatred and anger inspires as much… passion," she emphasized the word with a slight flex of her thin fingers, "as love?"

He swallowed again, lips parting slightly as his breathing increased. Whatever thoughts she inspired certainly evoked a physical response. Her hazy brown eyes flicked to the crotch of his pants, still only less than inch from her own. Regina resisted the urge to rub the soft leather covering it. Satiating her curiosity about how much Robin desired her physically fell second to winning back Emma's affections.

"Perhaps the solution to bridging such gaps lies in… consummating such strong emotions in unorthodox manners," she toyed with the definition of the word, and Emma felt certain The Queen hadn't meant to conclude something. "Do you agree, Robin?"

He swallowed again, shifting uncomfortably. Digging nails into his neck lightly, she pulled his face down closer to hers. He stiffened, resisting slightly when he expected a kiss from her upturned lips. It was cute how he fought his attraction even now. With only a little pressure and a strategic roll of her hips, she'd have ensnared him, but that wasn't her goal here, no matter how tempting. She pressed the pad of her thumb into his strong chin and opened his mouth further. Hot air dried the miniscule moisture in his already arid mouth as The Queen blew his voice into his throat.

His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the tingle against the sensitive flesh of his overactive mouth. Regina allowed him a moment more of sensual enjoyment and then shoved against his throat roughly, pushing him back several steps and offering Emma unfettered viewing access to her flushed cheeks and parted red lips.

"Good day, Mr. Hood," she dismissed him regally without leaving her perch. Her gaze connected with Emma's, barely aware of Robin stumbling from the room in confusion about what just occurred.

"You're a fucking bitch," Emma seethed, standing at the corner of the conference table closest to her with hands pulled into white-knuckled fists at her thighs.

Regina smirked. "I'm well-aware of that fact, Dear," she boasted pompously and leaned back on her hands, spreading her propped leg wider, granting permission, consenting to the anger Emma needed to release.

If Emma growled at the silent invitation, she'd have fervently denied it until the day she died. Her mistress offered her something, a release for her anger, perhaps even craved the violence, and Emma refused to deny herself this gift. Her hips collided with Regina's hard enough to shift the heavy desk, lips following. Regina moaned, her hands immediately pulling at the shirt tucked into Emma's pants.

Emma undulated, rolling her hips into her lover's as her shirt pulled from her arms and bouncing blonde hair. With one sharp jerk, buttons from Regina's blouse pinged and skittered over the hardwood floor. Lips and teeth attached to the swell of her breast within the red lacey bra, and Regina arched into the roughness, completely unbothered by the ruined shirt trapping her arms behind her back. She trusted the other woman.

Callused hands grabbed her luscious breasts through her bra, pushing them together, smothering herself in them, appreciating them even while bruising and biting them roughly in her angry. Without warning, she flipped Regina's body, trapping her hips against the hard wood with her own. Regina ground her ass into her lover's crotch as dull nails scraped over her chest and stomach. Teeth sank into her shoulder, and a surprised cry of arousal tore from her throat.

"Emma," she moaned, torn between pushing her hips into the edge of the desk to find more pressure or into her lover's to work her up more. Emma rarely let go like this, rarely trusted herself not to cross a boundary.

A hand fisted dark hair and jerked her body into an arch. "You fucking like that, don't you, you little whore," Emma seethed in her ear.

"Yes," Regina breathed. Emma jerked her hair harder while the other worked the zipper of her skirt.

"I can't hear you, slut," Emma taunted her, pushed her, knowing exactly that each word made her wetter, hotter, more desperate.

"Yes!" Regina yelled. Squirming, another sound somewhere between a whimper and a wail tore from the back of her throat when Emma's free hand slid into her skirt and panties. She applied far to much pressure to Regina's sensitive clit, intentionally making everything hurt as she rubbed three fingers back and forth far too quickly.

"Is this how he fucked you? From behind, hard and fast. Was he better than me?" Emma asked, her own security lurking beneath the harsh question and tone. She pushed harder, and Regina damn near sobbed from the heady sensation of being taken like this by her pet. Everything felt so much… more… with Emma.

"Answer me," Emma demanded, ceasing all movements and removing her hand from Regina's clit. "Were you such a good little slut for him or is this just for me?" She slipped a finger through Regina's sopping, scorching lips, reveling in the shudder from the body beneath her.

"N-no," The Queen stuttered, pushing her hips forward to reclaim contact. "Just for you," she assured the angry woman.

Emma cruelly removed her hand and immediately shoved her fingers into Regina's mouth, forcing the other woman to clean them. The sight mesmerized her. Regina's cheeks flushed, chest heaving, eyes glazed and smoky from the arousal her roughness caused. She wanted it, wanted her anger and rage and pain.

Without preamble, she used the fist in her hair to push Regina's upper body onto the desk and wrangled the shirt from her arms, freeing her mistress's hands. This continued as long as Regina felt comfortable with the situation, and confining her was a sure fire way to end it.

"Who do you want fucking you?" Emma asked and then scraped teeth over Regina's thin shoulder blade, leaving maroon spots of tiny bruises beneath her skin.

"You, Emma," The Queen answered obediently. "Only you," she added, and they both paused at the honesty behind the words.

"I don't believe you," Emma egged her on, moving past her surprise when her anger took hold again. If Regina only wanted her why had she fucked Graham only last week? She slowly hiked Regina's skirt over her hips, fingertips grazing her thighs and ass.

"Please, Emma," Regina begged shamelessly. She'd soaked through the red panties, probably destroying them as much as her shirt.

"That was pathetic. I don't even think you want me to touch you because you're not even trying. Say it like you mean it, be a good whore," Emma ordered, practically climaxing from the surreal and visceral experience of talking to Regina in such a way.

"Please, Emma. Fuck me. I'm sorry, Emma," Regina tried again, a little more desperately. Emma responded by lowering her panties to her ankles, still angled in her stilettos. Regina whimpered. Emma stood back to appreciate the sight of this gorgeous creature spread and dripping and bent over the desk all for her.

A sharp crack on the globe of her ass sent her nails clawing at the wood beneath her. She doubted Emma even needed to touch her if she slapped her ass again. "Emma," she whimpered. The Savior grinned wickedly.

"Yes?" She feigned innocence, and Regina growled incredulously.

"Please Emma, I need you. I won't do it again, I'm sorry," Regina apologized for the thousandth time. She moaned again, pushing her hips into the desk when the other ass cheek received the same rough treatment. She was going to cum before Emma ever penetrated her. Emma repeated the stinging gesture, grinning wickedly at the erratic jerking of her lover's hips.

Without warning, she plunged two fingers into Regina's pretty pink pussy, soaked and begging for her. Regina cried out, arching from the desk while the rest of her stilled. Emma drank in the sight of the tiny orgasm working through the gorgeous body responding so beautifully to her touch. Her slippery walls grabbed at Emma's fingers, but her lover had other ideas.

Emma jerked loose and slammed to the hilt quickly, forcing her muscles to open and spread. "I think you can do better than that. Show me how much you want me, Regina. Come on," she urged. "Let me hear my little whore."

"Emma!" She cried, already on the verge of falling over that cliff of bliss again. A firm hand held the back of her neck, holding her face against the desk. Emma forced a third finger into her hole, stretch her constricted muscles painfully despite the easy glide against the rippling flesh.

"Yes, Emma, fuck me. Harder. Make me sorry," Regina encouraged the abuse, and Emma pounded directly into her, not bothering to brush against her g-spot. She kept pace until her forearm burned and Regina clenched around her once more, edging close to her second orgasm. Emma stopped all movements, stealing all stimulation from The Queen.

"You haven't earned that yet," Emma explained darkly and popped the button on her jeans, pushing them over her hips. Regina glanced back without raising her cheek from the desk when Emma pushed it.

"Come here," Emma ordered as she levered herself onto conference table, kicking off her boots and jeans. Regina almost knocked over the chair in her haste to sit and bury her head between her lover's thighs.

Emma grabbed the back of her hair again, stopping her less than an inch from her goal. Her stomach clenched and jerked, reminding her of the desperate release she'd been denied at the hands of the beautiful blonde played before her. She met Emma's eyes, waiting for a verbal directive of what exactly she wanted.

"Don't fuck this up or I won't touch you again for another week," Emma threatened. Regina nodded, but a sharp tug forward stopped the motion halfway as her face slammed into Emma's sopping pussy.

Immediately, she lapped at the moisture seeping from that tight, aching hole. Emma moaned from above and held both sides of her head, keeping her there, smothering her slightly in the divine sensation of her musk and liquid heat. Regina spread her wider with both hands and drank every last drop Emma offered, lapping and jabbing into her slicked walls.

The grip in her hair tightened. Emma's moans and whimpers increased in volume and frequency. The hot muscle moved from the entrance to the throbbing bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. She held the flat against the nub and moved it up and down, never breaking contact with the most sensitive area. Emma stilled, pressure bursting deep in her belly.

Regina grinned, dipped her tongue into the fresh moisture and spread it over her lover's clit. Emma grumbled, deep in her throat. "Fuck me," she ordered, still too pissed to accept any sort of gentle touch from her mistress.

Regina stood, tipping the chair over and slid three fingers into her lover easily. Emma grinned, more turned on by the pain. "Come on, Majesty, I thought you liked sex with random people in your office. Did Graham make you this hot? Did you ride him on this table or did he take you on the desk?" She taunted Regina, and The Queen retaliated by angling her fingers upward as she punched a sharp thrust into the leather bundle of nerves inside her lover.

"Fuck!" Emma cursed, raising her hips to match the rhythm of her angry lover. She supposed she deserved it for giving Regina the cold shoulder all week. She'd never been promised monogamy after all, and Regina made that clear. Her jealousy was completely unwarranted.

"Harder," she ordered. She clenched and rippled around Regina, so close to that precipice of oblivion. Without stopping her precise, forceful penetration, Regina leaned over and sucked her clit between her lips and flicked her tongue over it.

Emma arched from the table, a string of undistinguishable expletives falling from her lips. Regina grinned around the flesh in her mouth, took a deep breath, and fucked her straight through the orgasm. Emma moaned and writhed, wriggling with the blinding, painful pleasure dancing on an over stimulated body.

Pressure stacked on top of her already tingling and soaring body. The sides of her fists slammed into the table, and her hips bucked violently against Regina's mouth, scraping teeth over her clit accidentally. Emma screamed. Regina punched into g-spot once more despite the juices already spurting around her fingers and wrist. Emma rippled and clamped down on them, suckling them greedily as waves of ecstasy and bliss crashed into her from the three-for-one orgasm Regina bestowed upon her.

"Fuck. Shit. Son of whore on Christmas Eve," Emma cursed comically, her hips jumping and shaking of their own accord.

Regina smirked, self-satisfied and certain that she'd earned her forgiveness. She climbed atop the table without removing her restrained fingers still stuck in the shivering, undulating muscles within her lover. She held her weight on her elbow and forearm and peppered kisses over the sweat-damp chest heaving with the effort of the endorphins and adrenaline still flooded her system.

"Fuck, baby," Emma swore again and gazed up at her goofily. Regina returned the expression and kissed Emma softly, her own ruined orgasm forgotten in the beautiful light of that kind and loving gaze returning.

Emma reached for her with shaking hands, intending to finish what she'd started, but Regina shook her head. "I'll live until tonight," she deflected the advances on her breasts, and Emma fell flat against the table once more, content to bask in the bliss of pleasure chemicals and Regina's fingers still nestled inside of her milking, rippling core.

She understood exactly what Regina had done. She sacrificed her own pleasure for Emma's, a complete reverse of what occurred last week with Graham. It was the ultimate apology, especially for one who pleasured herself as freely as The Queen. Emma smiled breathlessly and tossed an arm over her eyes to block the harsh light of the bulbs above them.

"You're forgiven."


End file.
